


lie to me awhile that everything gets better

by ISlayedBuffy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emetophobia, F/F, several mentions of things not for emetophobes that are trigged by mentions, trust me i hate myself as much as you hate me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:39:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10418592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ISlayedBuffy/pseuds/ISlayedBuffy
Summary: Physical scars aren't the only scars Angela and Fareeha carry. Their other scars show themselves at night, through panic, and sweating, and crying on bathroom floor in the middle of the night because you fought in a war in you sleep.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is short and barely edited and trust me I hate myself for even thinking about this but it could've been worse honestly.

Angela woke up when she was about to be pushed off their bed almost completely. She rolled over further into the middle before sitting up and trying to come to it, her groggy mind having a hard time to make sense of the disorder around her. She looked to where Fareeha should have been sleeping before looking to the door to the room. It was open and her tired eyes were met with the light shining from the bathroom instead of the door with an old poster from when Fareeha’s grandmother was young that she had insisted that they had to put up somewhere around the apartment. The door was a compromise they could both agree on because at least they’d see it, and yet it would not be a piece of the rest of the apartment which was what Angela was reluctant to. Not only was it beat up and  _ old _ , the image of a woman in a fur coat and seemingly nothing else by the slight view of side boob one got from looking at it, her blonde her covering her face, and the words ‘Ellie Goulding’ and ‘Delirium’, were just not something Angela felt fit with the rest of the apartment. She knew how important it was to Fareeha though, regardless of the fact that she didn’t know  _ why _ it was important. Angela kept staring out towards the light before getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom to see what was going on. 

It must have taken her a long time to wake up under the circumstances. On the bathroom floor was Fareeha in fetal position. Crying. Angela sighed as she laid down close beside her, face to face, drying her tears.

“We need to get you help, habibti.” Angela whispered. The tile floor was cold against their skin and Angela knew that if she did this any other time she would already be shaking. However, the heat radiating off of Fareeha was enough to warm them both enough to not care about it. Fareeha opened her eyes to look at Angela before shaking her head. She took a deep breath and swallowed. Opened her mouth and closed it again. Patiently Angela awaited the repeated answer of no in Fareeha’s prefered way of saying it tonight. 

Some weeks, some months, some years, were better than others. It was never good, it was just better. Bearable as opposed to excruciatingly, mind numbingly, unbearable in the way that neither of them knew when the other would just… give up. Angela would wake up in the middle of the night, her heart racing, her shirt sticking to her body. Fareeha would be holding her, already awake from Angela’s relentless sleep talking. Fareeha had promised to do so when it happened out of fear that she would find herself somewhere else, out of bed, when she woke up. Fareeha would never complain about having to change their sheets a couple of times a week, every day when it got bad, because of all the sweating Angela did during her nightmares. The past couple of weeks she had started to get better, pass into a blissful time of her nightmares not being as gruesome as they could, while who she had come to know as the love of her life drifted away into someone, some _ thing,  _ she couldn’t recognize. 

“I will be fine.” Fareeha whispered, her voice cracking at the end. “We always become fine again.” Fine, in this _ fucked _ of a situation, of course meaning that she only found herself being calmed down by Angela two or three times a week while being half-in and half-out of sleep in a state of panic. This was the third time Fareeha had woken up more nauseous than she thought humanly possible in two nights. The fifth this week, on a Thursday. Being early May she didn’t even want to try to imagine what the count would be by the end of it. She didn’t always throw up when it happened, sometimes Angela would come to her aid fast enough to be able to help her with the medicine, sometimes she would barely make it to the bathroom before throwing up. The times she remembered to put a bucket by their bed she would forget it was there, being to groggy, to much in a hurry, for the thought to even cross her mind until she was once again laying on the cold tile floor, or leaning against the bathtub. 

“I’m worried, Fareeha.” Angela stood up from the floor and reached into the cabinet hanging over the sink to grab one of the pills Fareeha never questioned, just swallowed, and filled the glass that was already awaiting its purpose to be filled with water in the middle of the night so Fareeha could swallow the two white pills down. She sat down on the floor again and waited for Fareeha to sit up before handing her the pills and the glass of water. 

“I’m not a psychiatrist. Even if I was, this is  _ our home _ , I’m your  _ wife _ here. I—I… can’t give you all the help you need. I can give you my support, as I always will no matter what, but this is a lot bigger than support.” she insisted, watching as Fareeha swallowed both pills at the same time. Fareeha knew Angela wasn’t a psychiatrist. If she was a psychiatrist she would have swallowed very different pills on a regular basis, on a very different time of the day. 

“You. Need. He—” 

“I’m  _ fine _ !” Fareeha interrupted, her voice louder, harsher, than she expected it to come out. She wasn’t sure if the remorse she felt was genuine, or from just seeing the expression on her wife’s face. She had seen it before, and she knew what it was. Shock filled with hurt. Probably hurt more than shock by the end of it. Fareeha leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling for a second before looking at Angela. They stared at each other, neither saying anything. Fareeha took another two gulps of water, knowing very well that if she left it Angela would come after her with an even bigger glass of water telling her how important it was that she hydrated after throwing up. She closed her eyes, realizing how completely destroyed she felt. The exhaustion hadn’t been very noticeably when she went through the motions. Now, however, now the exhaustion was carrying one of newer soldiers on her shoulder trying to desperately find a field medic,  _ any _ field medic. It was the hot water in the shower that made it hard to breathe when she showered in the morning so she wouldn’t reek of Angela’s sweat all day. It was waking up every night from her nightmares, almost every night at that nauseous and having to throw up. It was looking at her wife, the love of her life, and knowing that she was right. Fareeha needed help. She too had looked into the mirror and realized how much she had lost of herself in so many ways she could lose herself, thankful her mother was currently residing back home in Egypt. 

“I’m sorry.” Fareeha told Angela who hadn’t stopped staring at her. “We can— I can make an appointment at the base tomorrow. We don’t have a specialist there for nothing. He’s suppose to help, right? Survivor's guilt and PTSD and all that. And— and, obviously, it’s working for you. Your nightmares are getting better. I don’t have to change sheets as often” She offered a weak smile that was met with the softening of Angela’s face. 

“ _ We _ can make an appointment if that would be easier for you.” Angela told Fareeha, who took a second before giving a small nod as her answer. Fareeha drank the last water in the glass before standing up and putting it on the sink. She offered Angela her hand who grabbed it and was dragged up, faster than she thought she would be, stumbling into Fareeha who caught her, both laughing. They stood like that for a short while, just hugging. Angela taking in every degree of warmth Fareeha’s skin was radiating. Fareeha trying to keep herself from crying again out of exhaustion, out of fear, out of her nauseousness not going away. But mostly, out of just remembering how much she truly loved Angela. Angela broke away first, looking Fareeha in the eyes before turning away and walking back to their bed, dragging Fareeha with her by the hand. They laid down on their sides of the bed, looking at each other in the darkness. They were close enough that they could see each other, not saying anything just letting the silence say all that was needed. Fareeha lifted her hand to graze Angela’s cheek on it’s way to tucking hair behind her ear before moving closer and giving Angela a light kiss. 

“Ich liebe dich.” Fareeha whispered, her sleepiness obvious and the German coming out with some hybrid Arabic and English accent, that always amused Angela endlessly. Partly because it sounded adorable, partly because she didn’t understand how the hybrid Arabic and English accent was even possible. Though mostly Fareeha’s love declarations in her Arabic/English hybrid German didn’t amuse her even the slightest as much at they made her heart flutter as if it was the first time she had ever heard Fareeha say she loved her  _ every goddamn time.  _

“ Ana baħibbik, mein Liebling.” Angela whispered back. She could hear the deep rhythmic breathing of Fareeha just seconds after telling her that she had already fallen asleep. It didn’t take long before Angela followed, falling asleep face to face.  


End file.
